


From Another Perspective, Things Are Still As Bad As They Seem.

by CescaLR



Series: The Time After Everything (Season 4 AU) [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (Allison Argent is that death), (sorry), 3B that is, Basically, F/M, Gen, Hinted Nogitsune After Effects, Lydia POV, Mentioned Major Character Death, POV Lydia, POV Lydia Martin, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Post-Season/Series 03 AU, because i thought this series was lacking in Lydia Martin so I made this, for example, from her point of view, i don't know how to tag help, like liam, okay, this tells the previous one-shots in the series, uses season four elements, yay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 22:10:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8177908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CescaLR/pseuds/CescaLR
Summary: Lydia Martin prides herself on knowing how to use a situation to her advantage. After all, she’s been honing her skill since the start of high school – even before that, though sadly without actually using it to its full extent, as she had been only a child.(The parts of this series told from another's perspective. This time, the POV - it's Lydia's.)





	

Lydia Martin prides herself on knowing how to use a situation to her advantage. After all, she’s been honing her skill since the start of high school – even before that, though sadly without actually using it to its full extent, as she had been only a child, after all.

She also prides herself on her acting, and her ability to use and manipulate her words and the words of others to achieve the ends she requires.

She’s been doing this for years, and now all that practice is being put to the test.

You see, only a few weeks prior, there had been some fucking horrible shit going down, to put it lightly, and her _best friend_ and main confident was murdered.

A sword straight through the stomach, she had been told.

(She already knew that. The voices were whispering long before it happened. On lazy days and during the quiet hours, the voices were loudest. She never had any quiet before the storm.)

 _Allison!_ Had ripped through her throat from her voice box, loud and echoing and eardrum-breaking. She thinks she might have temporarily deafened Stiles from it, but she hadn’t. (He’d heard it though, which should have been impossible, so she’d filed that away for later analysis.)

Her voice had been hoarse for days and days after – Her throat was sore most days, from all the screaming, but that had been the most painful. Most likely, she thinks, because she’d known her.

And then the funeral happened. It was morbid, as funerals generally are, and quiet, one of the sadder songs from Allison’s playlists echoing around them in the silence, which was broken by those crying and those saying things that in the end meant nothing. (Lydia hadn’t paid attention. Sandwiched between Scott and Kira, as they all tried to break each other’s hands judging by the force they were squeezing with)   

Chris left for France thereafter, taking Isaac with him.

It was for the best, in the end. They’d both lost too much to stay in the town that destroyed them, and Isaac should have probably left ages ago. So should have the Argents, and, to be honest, so should the rest of them.

This town was cursed by a dead beacon, and wasn’t that a recipe for disaster?

So yes. After all that, was it not expected She’d try to fake it, like she had done since she was little?

And, yes, it was more than just hiding her intelligence this time, but in the end, it was as much for those around her as for herself.

You see, rather selfishly, they’d all unanimously, without saying a single word, decided to pretend everything was sunshine and daisies now. They needed the break from all the supernatural shit that this town likes to throw at them, and, for once, it seemed to be complying…

So long as they kept pretending.

(It’s funny, she thinks. The pauses in the danger and the mayhem should be used to fix what’s broken, but for them they only happen when they pretend nothing’s wrong and they’re all perfectly normal teenagers that do not need therapy, thank you very much.)

So she did. As well as she could, given the circumstances, she wore her old personality like armour, high heels and red lipstick and a narrowed gaze with a fake smile. Knowing it was wrong and Scott disapproved, she went through as many ‘boyfriends’ as she could, starting one day and ending the next.

(One she’d liked enough to keep for a few days. But then he’d gotten too close, and she’d had to drop him.)

She had a reputation now, she knew, but she also knew she was pretty much back where she started; ruling the school with sharp, biting words, high heels and a math formula.

People seemed to think her scary, her taking it too far. Her friends didn’t seem to care, so she deemed them (the people) stupid and ignored the Scott on her shoulder that was telling her to _stop._

The real one wasn’t, so it didn’t matter to her.

(Not any more, at any rate.)

She finished applying the last of her makeup, and shooed her most recent fling out the window.

Time for another day at school, she thinks, taking her highest heels and her nicest dress.

(The most expensive one, all flowy and lovely and reminiscent of springtime. Allison had pointed out the dress for her, and the shoes _were_ Allison’s. She’d never worn them, so she’d given them to Lydia. Now, they’re the most frequently used shoes the strawberry-blonde owns.)

She applies a coat of lipstick, some mascara and eyeshadow and all that’s needed, styling her hair in loose curls.

She plastered a smile on her face, all painted perfection, grabbed a jacket and a bag and left her room.

Time to pretend again, she thinks. Time to forget.

­­

* * *

School is the same as it has always been, and as per usual she feels as stab of envy in her heart, for those around her that have fully human worries and normal lives, not tainted by the supernatural that hangs around this town in particular.

They don’t have banshee blood in their veins, and she wonders, as she always does, what it would be like to be _normal._ No incredible intelligence, average looks, a lack of Banshee heritage, a group of fully human friends and thinks it would be boring, if so, so much safer.

_So much safer._

She smiles at Scott and Kira, listens to the inane chatter of the students and glares at those who stare.

(Stiles and Malia arrive. They sit in the stupid jeep for longer than is necessary and nod to each other. Malia brushes her hand across his sleeve, and he moves just enough so that it is only a feather-light touch. Lydia’s eyes narrow. They exit the car.)

 Stiles grins an expertly faked grin, and she can’t help but respect his acting talents. Scott smiles, genuine, as Stiles claps a hand just above his shoulder in greeting. (There is maybe half a centimetre gap, and his hand is removed as fast as is possible, to avoid the chance of skin-on-skin contact. It was fast and almost unnoticeable but Lydia’s been keeping an eye out for oddness. This classifies.)

Scott ignores that no sound was made, since it never actually made contact, and pecks Kira on the lips. She smiles, also genuine, and nods to Stiles and Malia. Stiles nods back, a faked quirk to his lips.

Malia’s not that great at pretending; her hand is clutching at Stiles’ baggy sleeve, her smile forced and obvious.

Lydia greets them, and they greet her back, and the group separates into two.

(They walk to their homerooms separately these days. Stiles with Scott and the girls with each other. If Allison was alive, they wouldn’t split, she thinks. The groups would at least be even, if they did.)

Lydia notes the tense set of Stiles’ shoulders, the hard glint of his eyes and nudges Kira to stand between him and Scott.

She does, and he relaxes, stands further away from the two of them than is strictly necessary.

 _There._ Her good deed for the day.

She takes Malia’s arm and guides them in the direction of Malia’s homeroom.

_Wouldn’t want to be late, now, would we?_

* * *

She hears through the grapevine about how Stiles acts, when the pack isn’t present.

It’s not much; not by their standards, but at the same time if anyone in the know knew the extent that even the gossip mongers don’t know – and therefore Lydia doesn’t know –

It would be incriminating, or at the very least, worrying.

Lydia hears of anger; of ‘ _he’s actually kind of terrifying? I don’t know but his expressions creep me out sometimes’,_ of ‘ _did you hear what he said?! Savage, if true, but still – it was pretty uncalled for. I’m not sure how he hasn’t been called to the principal’s office yet’,_ and ‘ _did you hear, he was in Eichen house for a while – no wonder he’s the way he is; if you weren’t crazy before, you are when you leave.’_

It’s not the most reassuring of information, but she pays the kids anyway, and one of the freshmen runs off with her new designer handbag before Lydia can take it back; can decide the information wasn’t good enough.

She doles out the rest of the payments, and they all run off as fast as the first.

Scowling, she turns to the next one, and his words are more of the same.

‘ _Did you hear, he hasn’t been to econ or lacrosse practice since Coach was put in rehab after his hospital visit – apparently his blood alcohol levels were worrying or something, doesn’t matter – and when the teacher asked Malia Tate about it she brought up the sheriff card and he dropped it, scowling? I don’t know, seems fishy…’_

 _Blah, blah, blah._ She wishes they’d get some new information, before she has to up her standards and they have to up their prices.

‘ _…also, I’m not sure how reliable this information is, as it’s from Mandy, the creepy girl who hallucinates? Yeah, that one – she said when she looks at him, she sees shadows and foxes, lightning and darkness, feels the power of the earth and the pull of the void. Creepy as fuck, right? Pretty sure she’s just crazy, but you said you wanted to know everything, so…’_

_Wait. What?_

Lydia jerks to attention, stares at the kid – what was his name, again? Brendon? Barry? Bob? Eh – “Stop. Mandy?”

The kid, this time, she notes, a junior – now dubbed ‘Bob’ because she doesn’t know his name and doesn’t care – nods. “Yeah. Mandy. About, yea high –” his hand is flat, waving slightly above his head and a head-height taller than her, even in heels – “- Crazy as you would not believe. Sees shit no-one else does; claims to read auras but she’s just bat-shit insane according to her medical prescription. Spent a while in Eichen house but got let out recently. She’s been put in junior year, though she should be a senior, since she had no education whilst in the Insane Asylum.”

“Right.” Lydia nodded, dryly. “Her name?”

He blinked, then looked sheepish. “Oh. Uh – Mandy Briarson. Weird name, right?”

She hummed. “Not the weirdest I know.”

He nodded, a quirk to his lips. “Right. You know Malia-”

“Muh-leah,” Lydia corrected. “Not Ma-Lia. Muh-leah.” He smiled. “Exactly. And, you hang around with that – Stilinski, guy, right? Sheriff’s kid. No-one actually knows his name.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know this.” Bored now, she handed him the pack of rare cards. “Here. I don’t know why you’d want these, but whatever.” Her eyes glinted. “I’ll up my price though, next time. Spread it around; I keep on getting more of the same information. Find me new things, or get nothing.”

He nodded. “Fair. I’ll tell the others – a couple have siblings in the lower years who can pass on the info with the correct bribery to those below. I’ll tell my older bro about it – he can pass it on to Jaz, who’s his girlfriend. She’ll spread it ‘round the seniors.”

Lydia nodded, a sharp smile on her face. “Same time, same place. We’ll have to risk it.”

He nodded, serious. “Sure. See ya, Martin.” He nodded again, and left the room.

The smile stayed on Lydia’s face for a moment, then fell off and was replaced by a frown.

Stiles wasn’t quite good enough at acting to cover recently gained personality problems, it seems.

That _is_ a definite weak link. Lydia needs to fix this…

Or, alternatively, find out _what the fuck is going on_ with her friend.

Supernatural shit may happen, but she’s tired of pretending.

(Allison wouldn’t want them to dwell for too long, she thinks. She’s still in mourning, but she’ll use the memory of her friend to protect her other ones.

She has to. Scott isn’t doing it, so someone has to.

_It might as well be me.)_

* * *

As if karma, the supernatural rears its ugly head a few nights later.

(by a few, she literally means three. Why would she mean more, when a few means three or four? Ridiculous. Use the correct terms, thank you.)

There’s an omega loose in the streets of Beacon Hills – an omega that’s gone crazy.

She, of course, finds out the next day. Scott apparently dealt with it… badly, as the omega’s dead and Scott’s got a beta. Liam, his name is. Liam Dunbar.

Just some freshmen with intermittent explosive disorder.

_Fuck, Scott. Seriously?_

With a sigh, Lydia leans back into her couch, staring at the page in the psychology book she picked up so she’d have a better idea of what they’re going to have to deal with, alongside the werewolf problems he’s been heaped with.

_Damnit._

(Lydia wishes stiles was here to help her research. Scott’s adamant they try to get it under control – at least, a little – first.)

Her phone rings, and its Kira. “Kira?” she asks. “Yeah, hey Lydia. Uh, Scott’s asking – he told stiles. Said it happened last night, which is true. He’s finally caved and got Stiles to get his dad to stall the authorities, however he can, and he’s bringing Stiles over to Derek’s old place. Me, Malia and Liam are already here… Can you stop by Deaton’s and get something to knock him out, just in case? We don’t wanna hurt him, but he’s being stupid. So…”

Sighing, Lydia nodded. “Yeah. Sure, I’ll be there.”

She put her book down, left the room and took her mother’s car keys.

(It’s not like she’s home now. It’s not like she’d care if she was.)

Lydia gets in the car, and she drives.

* * *

Stiles injected Liam in the side of his arm, right where a vein should be, and it took all of half a minute for the freshman to be knocked out.

Everyone stared at Stiles (aside, of course, from Malia) as he walked over to the couch and sat down, massaging his temples.

(Malia glared at Liam as if he’d offended her personally. Judging by her possessiveness of her friends, he had done. (as Scott’s first bitten, he’d taken the position as the Alpha’s second. The guilt of biting him was more than the guilt she’d carefully made sure he had understood he should have, after turning Malia human without her consent. She’s annoyed, obviously. But more on behalf of Stiles.))

There was a pause, a moment of silence, and before someone could say something stupid, Lydia spoke, colouring her words with amusement. “Well, that’s one way to calm him down.”

(She was amused – that was how it could be convincing. To be honest, the most amusing part was Scott’s face during the whole situation.)

Lydia caught the movement of Scott’s jaw, and before she could stop him from doing something stupid, Malia did it for her. _“What?”_ The werecoyote snapped, and Scott’s jaw clicked shut at the note of warning her tone conveyed.

(Malia’s hand tightened on stiles’ shirt, and Scott averted his eyes, guilty. Lydia surmised that he’d probably flinched, and that the weres had seen it. She sympathised. It’s hard to hide things from supernaturally enhanced people.)

Kira interrupted the tense air in the room with her own brand of unfailing optimism. “At least he’s not a danger to himself, now.” She pointed out, and at least that was true.

Lydia nodded, and Scott’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly.

(Stiles’ face looked relieved, for a moment. Lydia was the only one who was actually looking in his direction.)

"So, let's go over this. I - I'm a werewolf." Liam stated, a questioning tone to his voice.

Lydia saw Stiles roll his eyes.

"Yes, you little runt. You're a werewolf. Scott's your Alpha. Lydia's a banshee. Kira's a-"

"Fox spirit. Right?" Liam interrupted, confident in the knowledge, then unsure it was quite correct. Kira shrugged. "Fox works." "Kitsune's the term though," Lydia decided to point out. "Don't want him to offend anybeing."

(That would be rather a problem, if he did.)

Stiles nodded in agreement. "Right? Anyway, Kira; kitsune. The Argents; Mostly hunters though I suppose some could have abstained from the family business. Hale's are generally werewolves, though I suppose there could be other weres in the family, and I know for a fact that there were humans before the main, Hale Pack, strain was wiped out by Kate Argent. So that's Derek, Cora, and Peter Hale, so far as we know. Malia here's a werecoyote, and yeah, that seems 'bout it."

Stiles didn’t say anything about himself in that little spiel, but he didn’t for Isaac or Scott or Jackson either so it’s most likely nothing.

Liam seemed curious. “What’re you?” he asked of Stiles.

( _please answer truthfully Stiles. Come on, now or never.)_

Stiles blinked a few times, possibly confused. "Me? Well, for a while I was possessed by this evil spirit. It was very evil." _Clever. An answer that’s a non-answer. Well done._

 "What about now?" The new wolf questioned further, a curious gleam in his eyes.

_Far too curious._

Stiles started tapping a random rhythm on his leg, signifying his nervousness. _His fidgeting was always one of his tells_.

Malia, probably thinking she was being discrete, grabbed his arm and stilled his movement.

Lydia watched from the corner of her eye. Stiles stopped moving, completely, unnaturally still. _Shit. He noticed._

Stiles spoke. "...better?..."

Lydia kept her gaze focused on Stiles, as the others glanced, but Liam didn’t notice the problems with that reply and nodded in acceptance.

"Right. So, I have to keep this secret?"

Stiles spoke before anyone else could, and Lydia felt annoyed. "If you think it's right to. Some things are better out in the open, but if you think someone would be happier not knowing then don't tell them unless absolutely necessary." "However, I think you should tell your closest friend, and your parents, or parent." Lydia put in, butting in before Scott could get a word in edgewise.

Scott’s expression was one of annoyance.

We should probably should let him talk. 

Stiles continued. "But really, in the end it's your alpha's decision. First thing Derek should have told us, but really didn't - packs aren't democracies. They're dictatorships. What the Alpha says, goes, and that's why they have in-pack advisors. Sounding boards, really. Anyway, what I'm saying is that it ultimately is up to Scott if you say anything...""or don't," Malia added onto the end.

All eyes were on Scott, and he opened his mouth, paused, and then spoke. "I think it should be up to you. I don't know the people you know, don't know how they'd react to the supernatural. Some people just can't handle it, and some can. Those that can't, they can go... bad. Or, alternatively, they can just... just - Go."

Lydia flinched at the meaning behind those words, and hoped that no-body saw it.

Liam visibly swallowed, and made an.. odd facial expression before returning to a normal one and nodding. "I have someone in mind, but I'm not - not gonna tell my stepdad. At least, not yet." They all nodded, but Lydia and Scott noticed Stiles’ expression contort oddly (in a worrying manner), saw his head jerk to a sudden stop. Malia's grip tightened, her knuckles white so therefore using all her considerable were-coyote strength, however Stiles didn’t even wince. Lydia noted Malia's grip, and noticed Stiles' lack of pain, and filed it away for later. As did Scott, though he held a look of surprise on his face because of it.

"So... Can I leave?" Scott rapidly shook his head at Liam, and Stiles stared at him, wide-eyed. "Oh my god no that's a terrible idea. You don't have control yet, full moon's tomorrow, you have anger issues, you won't be in control of your own actions - do you want to go to town on your family members?!"

The lights flickered. Lydia pursed her lips, and glanced at Kira, wondering if she was as worried but was keeping silent about it.

Kira winced, apologetically.

(She then looked confused, as Kira knew there was no reason for her to have done that - and besides, so far, she's needed to touch something for anything to happen, and it was never consistent. )

Kira remembered something her mother told her, and flicked her eyes over to Stiles, unnoticed by Scott, Malia and Stiles.

(Lydia still had her eyes on Kira, so the glance did not go unnoticed.)

Liam stared at Stiles, wide eyed, perhaps rightly worried now, and Scott reached out to him, led him to the side, murmured quiet words to the new beta.

Malia dragged Stiles over to the couch by the arm, and sat them down together. Lydia saw Stiles looking at her and Kira as she grabbed the girl and led her to the other side of the room so that they could talk.

(Lydia also noted that Stiles had pretty much instantaneously looked away afterwards, but that didn’t matter right now.)

“So.” She started. “The lights. Was that you, or…?” Kira shook her head, just as confused as before. “No. It wasn’t.”

There was a pause, and Kira glanced at Stiles, a troubled look on her face.

“My mother said –” Then she stopped, as if losing confidence. More quietly, she continued. “My mother said… when her kin vomited up Stiles – She said ‘more you than nogitsune’, right? And, at the time I thought it meant nothing – to be honest, I didn’t even register it properly.” She hesitated, then ploughed on. “But the stuff I’ve been hearing around school… and from my Dad about what’s discussed at teacher conferences…”

There was another, longer pause.

Lydia remained, quiet, patiently waiting for Kira to finish.

“- he obviously doesn’t know I’m listening, he tells it to mom which is… worrying – uhm. You – You’ve heard though, right? Some of the weird things that happen at school when Stiles isn’t with us.”

Lydia nodded, because of course she had. She has a network of gossipers at her beck and call, of course she’s heard.

(It might as well be a spy network. If it is, she’s the boss. Some (read; most) are set to find information on Stiles, the rest are set for general weirdness around school – things that could be supernatural problems. It would be easier if they had some other medium than meeting in abandoned class rooms to converse with, but as it stands it’s alright.)

Kira nodded in return. “I guess you’ve never used the desk,” she said, hesitantly. “But some people have – they say words have been carved into its surface because of how hard he was pressing down the pen when writing.”

Lydia looked at her, askance. “Writing?”

“Yeah.” Kira grimaced. “There’s a reason why he switched seats. He practically carved his possession into that wood. ‘Wake up’, ‘just a dream’ and a bunch of riddles, some answered some not. ‘When is a door not a door’, ‘Everyone has it but no-one can lose it’. The second one was never answered… until the day he had to sit there when we got back. You know, the first and last time he attended econ after the nogitsune? He carved the answer and bolted. People are still talking about it.”

Lydia scowled, because no-one had told her this. “Right.” She said, sharply.

Lydia sighed, her tone now tired. “And what your mother said?”

Kira nodded. “I think it’s connected.” She hesitated. “I – I wasn’t going to ask. I don’t think it’s my place to, really.” Her voice was more firm now. “I’m still not.”

Lydia nodded, absently. “Fine.”

Kira winced, glanced at the coyote and human hidden in the shadows. She looked back at Lydia. “And… I know it wasn’t him, exactly. But we met when he was possessed, and – that’s not the best first impression, is it?”

Lydia winced, then frowned. “It’s not, but he was possessed, Kira.”

Kira’s tone was demanding. “Yeah. It was a thing with his face and his voice and his mannerisms – however twisted – doing all that stuff. Knocking me out, slapping my sword away as if it was nothing. Don’t tell me you don’t sometimes think of oak creek when you see him.”

Lydia froze.

Her voice was like ice, her eyes cold and hard.

“That wasn’t him.”

“No.” Kira agreed. “It wasn’t.”

“But it looked and sounded like him, and sometimes that’s enough.”

Lydia glared at the girl. “You didn’t know him before.”

Kira looked at her sadly. “And I think that’s the problem. My first impression – possessed, occasionally crazy and ordered a guy to try to kill me via chalk on a board in code. If I knew him beforehand I would have happy, good memories to superimpose over the negative ones. But I don’t, and therein lies the problem.”

Lydia took a shaky breath.

Logically, it made sense, but all she could think of was the kind boy she knew superimposed over a monster, a creature that dragged its mouth over her ear and made her _very_ uncomfortable, that kidnapped her so that her friend would die and she’d feel pain he could feed off.

(She’d thought it was him that would die that night. After, she’d know better, and why he’d seemed unconcerned. She hadn’t been able to be around Stiles until just before the funeral. _That_ was a fortnight after everything.)

Kira, with sympathetic eyes and a soft touch placed a hand on Lydia’s bicep.

“I’m sorry for all this.” She said quietly. “After all – it was my mother who summoned it here in the first place; that gave it the instructions to make everyone suffer.”

And with a final pat, the kitsune wandered over to her boyfriend and the new beta.

Lydia stood there, still.

(She felt shaken. She would _not_ admit it.)

(It was the first time she’d really thought about oak creek since it happened. No-one ever dared bring it up.)

* * *

Another day, another pretence.

The day is Monday, another day at school. It’s been a month’s time since the events the nogitsune caused, a fortnight since the last of the funerals. Lydia, Malia, Stiles and Kira are standing outside the school, waiting for Scott to arrive. Kira, Malia and Stiles are conversing, joking and generally just pretending to be alright, and Lydia is smiling her faked smile and intersecting at just the right times.

(She’s glaring at the rest of the students. She’s glad some of them cower. (She’s tired of doing the cowering. Of needing to be rescued and not preventing the deaths of her friends with her future-death predicting abilities.))

Scott arrives on his bike, gets off and walks over. He greets Kira with a chaste kiss, and it goes near unnoticed when Stiles steps away slightly – now just out of reach of any arms that might try to clap him on the shoulder.

It’s a coincidence, honest.

(It’s happened more than three times now. Lydia’s kept count.)

Malia grabs stiles’ arm, and they hide it between them. Lydia notices but doesn’t note, as she’s figured the whole Liam incident was karma for her plan to interfere. Kira notices, so Lydia nudges her less than gently, and with a wince murmurs ‘ _gotta get to class, bye guys’_ and hurries off. Lydia smirks, spins around and flounces off after her, a sway in her hips and distracting passers-by from her friends. Her hair flips when she turns, and her heels _clack_ on the ground.

(She follows Kira, eyes following her. After all, they have the same homeroom.)

* * *

 

Lydia has a plan. The day is Saturday, so she decides to use some of her family’s money on her friends.

She buys her, Kira and Malia a half-day at the spa, and they go.

(She has plans. They _will_ have fun today; she _will_ distract them.)

They have fun. It’s the first fully, genuinely relaxed day they’ve _had._

(Considering that they all met during the fiasco that was the events of a month ago, it’s not really surprising but _still.)_

They talk, and it’s easy. They joke, and go to the mall, and act as if they are normal friends having a fun day together.

(Rather than a group of slightly broken individuals having a break from their stressful lives.)

They watch a movie, and it’s not half-bad, they eat mall food that doesn’t make them sick and Lydia treats her friends to new clothes.

(Malia cannot apparently dress herself nicely, so Lydia takes it upon her shoulders to be her buyer for the day. She seems to be having reluctant fun, so Kira and Lydia grin at each other when she’s out of sight and call it a win.)

(seriously though, argyle socks, those boots, a pair of not very nice shorts and that top? No thank you, Malia. Lydia _had_ to fix that. She probably should have helped her from the beginning, since it was stiles (who notoriously wore clothes too big for him and far too many layers) who had to teach her. Really, it was a fashion disaster waiting to happen.)

(For once, when she thinks Allison would have loved to help, and she imagines her here with them, pointing out the perfect clothes and persuading her to try things out of her usual style, it doesn’t hurt too much to bear. She thinks, privately, that it’s progress.)

Lydia drops Kira off at her house, staring suspiciously at the drawn curtains in the living room window. With a shrug, because today is not for anything that might lead to, she takes Malia back to the Sheriff’s house.

(Stiles’ car isn’t there, but they both ignore it. Malia gets out of the car and goes into the back yard – most likely to enter from stiles’ window.)

Lydia drives herself home, goes in and locks the door behind her. She drops the keys on the hall table, and goes upstairs.

(she has some IED reading to do.)

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it took so long to update... and since this doesn't really bring anything new to the table - sorry for this practically filler oneshot. yaaaay.   
> *sighs* oh well. I wanted to see how this Lydia is to write - it's actually pretty easy, all things considered. Quite different yet very similar to the one from my other story, so that's fine. What do you guys think?


End file.
